A Long Way from Storybrooke
by DarylDixon'sgirl1985
Summary: Hogwarts is about to get a whole lot more Fairytale like when the 13 year old daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White, Emma Swan, is accepted into the school. What's the worst that can happen when more than just Voldemort is out there waiting to get you?


**Hey everyone. This story was brought to you by Quidditch Training Camp, Magic Kingdom, Herbology Hangout, and Insane Prompt Challenge on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For Quidditch Training Camp I wrote for Burpees and the task was to write about someone in the occupation of Professor. (Does not have to be canon.) For Magic Kingdom I wrote for Take a walk down Main Street USA The Chapeau's object prompt of hat. For Herbology Hangout I wrote for the fandom of Once Upon a Time. For the Insane Prompt Challenge I wrote for prompt number 357. Action of writing a letter. Harry Potter/Once Upon a Time crossover. Warning for out of characterness. Word count without Author's Note is 2,420 words. I'd like to thank Elizabeth for beta reading this story for me. I really appreciate it. I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of A Long Way from Storybrooke.**

Harry Potter watched from the window of number four Privet Drive as the car of the neighbors across the street pulled into the driveway. He'd seen the Archers go out at around six that morning but didn't understand what that was all about. The Archers, one of Aunt Petunia's friends from college, never went out or did anything fun in the middle of the week, which was what shocked thirteen year old Harry the most. It was a Wednesday morning.

BANG!

The sound of the car doors slamming shut drew Harry from his thoughts and made him look over quickly. He knew if Mrs. Archer caught him looking she'd have to have a word with his Aunt Petunia. But Harry couldn't help it. He had to know what had drawn them out on that day in the middle of summer. Looking at the back passenger side doorway revealed the reason.

Standing there, the door open behind her still, was the most beautiful girl that Harry'd ever seen in his entire life. She had blonde hair and she seemed pretty tall. Or at least to him she did. She must have sensed him looking, because she turned and waved slightly at Harry, making him duck behind the curtains.

"What are you doing just lollygagging near the window like that?," snapped Aunt Petunia. "The bacon won't cook itself. Now get to your chores before your Uncle Vernon..."

Knowing that his aunt and uncle were still very much afraid that he'd perform magic on them, Harry reached into his back pocket for his wand. A smile formed on his face as he watched Aunt Petunia retreat back into the kitchen. Sometimes it was good to have that little trick in his back pocket for when his family was threatening him. With a sigh, he followed his aunt into the kitchen to begin another day of chores and doing whatever was asked of him.

Emma Swan's POV:

Emma Swan had had about enough of these people already, and that was before she even stepped foot inside their car. They'd been nothing but nice to her when they'd come to the orphanage looking for a child. They'd seemed friendly enough and they seemed very interested in everything that Emma said then, but now it almost seemed as though she was an inconvenience to them.

"Don't stand there with the car door open," snapped Mrs. Archer as her storm-cloud-grey eyes glared at a point over her head. "Get your bags and get inside. Now!"

Emma turned back into the car and gathered up the only bag of feeling she was being watched from across the street grew stronger as she stood up. Turning slightly, she caught sight of a boy about her own age in the window across the street. He was pretty handsome in her opinion, with dark hair. She gave a small wave in hopes that he'd come out and maybe they could talk for a bit. He seemed to be the only person her age on this street - that she could see, anyway. But before she could motion him out, he ducked out of view.

"Don't talk to that boy," Mr. Archer told her pointedly. "He's a troublemaker, that one."

"He doesn't look like one," Emma spoke up, looking back to where the boy had been in the window. She could see the movement of other people in the house but she hadn't seen the boy come back yet. "Maybe you should get to know your neighbors better."

Mr. Archer's smile faded a little and his eyes darkened a bit. "Get inside now, Emma," he told her, a tone of warning in his voice. "There won't be a second request."

Emma knew that tone of voice from being in the system since she was a baby. She'd hear it from almost all the families that'd adopted her only to have her personality rub them the wrong way. Or for her to get bored of them and run away. No one really got her, and to her disappointment it looked like she might end up running away from the Archers like she did the last family.

After getting into the house, Emma was rather unceremoniously shown to a room that looked like it was made for a four year old girl and not for a thirteen year old one. She was about to say that they didn't have to go to any trouble putting a room together, a bed, blanket, and pillow would have done just great, when the door was closed behind her.

"That's odd," Emma whispered to herself. "They almost seem like they don't want me here."

Sighing and looking around the room that was way to pink for her liking, she decided that for right now she'd make the best of this. Going over to the bed, she began to unpack the scant few items she'd been given over the course of time she'd been in her last home. Looking at the pink and white dresser, she knew the clothes would fit. She'd only had three outfits that still fit her when she went back to the orphanage. Plucking them out of the bag in front of her, she put them away neatly into the little dresser.

She was about to start unpacking the few odds and ends she'd been allowed to keep from the orphanage when she heard a knock sound from downstairs, then the sound of voices talking. There was a length of conversation, and then she was called to come downstairs and join everyone.

"Emma," Mrs. Archer's voice called, as sharp as nails being driven through a shoe, "come downstairs and meet your new neighbors."

Maybe the boy from the window would be one of the people waiting to meet her down in the living room, she thought anxiously as she skipped down the stairs. As she rounded the corner, she was brought up short by the sight that greeted her. She almost wanted to laugh at the mismatched family that stood in "her" new living room.

"Emma," Mrs. Archer said, the same smile she'd had on her face when they first met at the orphanage in Maine present, "I would like to introduce you to our dearest friends. The Dursley family. Vernon." She pointed to a very fat man with a lot of mustache and no neck. "Petunia." She pointed to a thin woman with way too much neck. "And their handsome son, Dudley." The boy, who was about her age, looked like a carbon copy of his father with blonde hair and no mustache at all.

Faking a huge smile, Emma held out her hand to shake hands with the people in front of her. "It's nice to meet you," she said like they'd taught her in the orphanage. "You don't happen to live across the street, do you?"

"Emma," Mr. Archer chided her, "don't you think that sounds a bit rude of you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Petunia told Mr. Archer laughingly. "She's only being curious about her new surroundings." She turned to Emma with a smile on her face. "Yes. We do live across the street, dear. Why do you ask?"

"Do you have another son?"

"Emma." The warning tone was back in Mr. Archer's voice and the smile had promptly faded from Mrs. Dursley's face.

"I'm sorry," Emma said, looking around at the adults in the rooms reaction, "I didn't mean to broach a bad subject if I did."

"We don't have any other children," Mrs. Dursley snapped. "We only have our perfect Dudley."

"Is your house haunted? I could have sworn..."

"I think perhaps Emma is a bit tired from her traveling," Mrs. Archer said, placing a hand on the small of Emma's back and steering her out of the room. "Maybe we could set up a playdate for the children at a later date."

Emma was walking back up the stairs when she heard the hushed conversation start. She didn't understand what they were saying but they seemed to be talking about the boy Emma had seen earlier. She could only catch bits and pieces of the conversation.

"...hopefully she's not like your nephew, Petunia."

"...would be dreadful, Anthea."

The conversation grew louder, indicating that they were coming towards where Emma sat in the middle of the stairs. She got up and raced into the room she'd been given, reeling from the biggest shock she'd received yet. Sitting on her window sill with a letter clenched in its teeth was an owl.

"Hey, boy," Emma said, opening the window and allowing the barn owl, she guessed, into the room. "What have you got there?" It dropped the letter in front of her. "Is this for me?" She picked up the letter after giving the owl a quick pet on the head. She was shocked when it just sat there and looked at her so she opened the letter and read.

"What's Hogwarts?" she asked as she saw the light go on in the room across from her's in the house across the street. "Ow!" she exclaimed as the owl nipped her hand towards a piece of paper on her desk. "You think I should go. I don't have any money to pay to go here, though." Another nip came from the owl. "Fine."

Picking up the blank piece of paper, Emma got out a pen and began to write a reply back to the school that wanted to accept her. Her very first school that she actually seemed interested in.

To whomever it may concern,

I would very much like to come to your school. If this letter is actually from a real life school and not some prank from one of the neighborhood kids, that is. The only problem is I don't really have any money of my own to pay for school tuition or anything of the like. I'm not sure if my new adoptive or foster or whatever parents would be willing to send me to your school. But if you still want me to go, I'm willing to come.

Emma

The bird ruffled its feathers and held out its leg to her impatiently. Seeing the bit of leather rope attached to the owls leg, she figured that that was what the owl wanted her to do - tie the letter to its leg. Deftly tying the letter to the owl's leg Emma stood back.

"There you go, pretty bird," she told the owl watching, as it swooped out of the window and flew away from her. She wondered where it was going and what this school she'd been invited to join looked like as she pulled out the small notebook she'd been using as a diary. But not a diary. She'd been keeping track of her life by writing letters to the parents who'd given her up at birth. Lying on her stomach across the far too girly bed, she used the pen to write in her diary.

Dear birth parents, (I guess I can call you that. Right?)

Today started out pretty good. Or at least it was until I arrived at the airport in Heathrow. The "happy" couple who adopted, or I guess agreed to foster me, didn't show up. Or at least in attitude they didn't. I was treated more like I was more trouble than I was worth anything. And it all got worse when we got back to their house. They've got me in a room that looks like it was prepared for a child and not a teenager. I mean how much pink can you fit into one room? Insert gagging noise here please.

But that wasn't the weirdest thing. I met the neighbors from across the street. The Dursleys. They seem like a normal family, but when I mentioned seeing their other child they seemed to tense up. Then the Archers said something about Mrs. Dursley's nephew. Something about hoping I didn't turn out like Mrs. Dursley's nephew. But I think I've seen this nephew and he doesn't seem like a bad guy. He actually looks pretty nice. Hopefully I'll get to actually meet him and have a conversation with him one of these days.

But that wasn't the only weird thing to happen to me today. When I was sent up to my room because I decided to call the Dursley's out on the whole other child in their house thing, I was greeted by an owl waiting for me on the window sill. Have you guys ever heard of a school called Hogwarts? Not that I'm actually expecting you to write back or anything. It's just that I'm actually hoping that this school is real. It sounds like a place that I'm sure to fit in at.

"Emma, turn out the lights and go to bed," Mr. Archer called towards her room.

In the house less than a few hours and already being sent to bed without her supper. This had to be brand new record for Emma. Sighing, she grabbed one the snacks she'd packed for the plane ride to hold her over until breakfast and turned back to finishing her writing.

Well I guess that's all for right now. I'll let you guys know if I get into that school and what it actually is when I find out.

Your daughter,

Emma.

Little did Emma Swan know that in a castle in the Scottish hills, the headmaster of her new school was reading over the letter she'd written with a sad expression on his face. Albus Dumbledore could hear the want and need to be accepted pouring out of the words the teenage girl had written to him. He looked over at the portrait of one Rowena Ravenclaw's descendants, a raven haired beauty standing next to a brown haired man.

"The daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming may be the best of all," Albus Dumbledore whispered to the Sorting Hat on its shelf as he picked up a quill and wrote the girl back.

**I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of A Long Way from Storybrooke.**


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